A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 3

heard ... it rumoured. From someone, once.'
    'Matron Delisp is probably very pleased with her newest property.'
    'I'd wager she is at that. So, how do we extract Shurq Elalle, especially since it's obvious she is where she wants to be, and the Matron has at least thirty thugs in her employ who're likely to try and stop us? Should we simply consider this a lost cause and be on our way?'
    Bugg shrugged. 'That is up to you to decide, master.'
    'Well.' He considered. 'I'd like at least a word with her.'
    'Probably all you can afford.'
    'Don't be absurd, Bugg. She doesn't charge by the word ... does she?'
    'She might well charge by the glance, master. Our dear dead thief has blossomed—'
    'Thanks to me! Who arranged for her overhaul? Her dry-dock repairs, the new coat of paint? We had a deal—'
    'Tell it to her, master, not me. I am well aware of the lengths you go to in appeasing your own peculiar appetites.'
    'I'm not even going to ask what you mean by that, Bugg. It sounds sordid, and my sordid self is my own affair.'
    'So it is, master, so it is. Good thing you're not the nostalgic type.'
    Tehol glared at Bugg for a moment, then swung his attention once more to the Temple. The oldest brothel in all the land. Some said it was standing here long before the city rose up around it, and indeed the city rose up around it because of the brothel itself. That didn't make much sense, but then few things did when it came to love and its many false but alluring shades. He tilted his head back to study the gargoyles, and the scorched reed hat slid off to splash on the cobbles behind him. 'Well, that settles it. Either I stand here getting my hair wet, or I go inside.'
    'As far as I can tell, master, my rain hat was a tragic failure in any case.'
    'It's your over-critical nature, Bugg, what's done you in. Follow me!'
    Tehol ascended the steps with proprietary determination. As he reached the landing the front door swung open and the frame was filled by a huge, hooded man wearing a black surcoat, a massive double-bladed axe in his gauntleted hands.
    Appalled, Tehol halted, Bugg stumbling into him from behind on the lower step.
    'Excuse me,' Tehol managed, stepping to one side and pulling Bugg along with him. 'Off to a beheading, then?' He gestured for the man to pass.
    Small eyes glittered from the hood's shadows. 'Thank you, sir,' he said in a raspy voice. 'You are most courteous.' He strode forward onto the landing, then paused. 'It's raining.'
    'Indeed, almost finished, I'd wager. See the blue overhead?'
    The axe-carrying giant faced Tehol. 'If anyone asks, sir, you never saw me here.'
    'You have my word.'
    'Most kind.' He faced the street again, then cautiously descended the steps.
    'Ooh,' he said as he set off, 'it's wet! Ooh!'
    Tehol and Bugg watched him scurry away, hunched over and weaving to avoid the deeper puddles.
    Bugg sighed. 'I admit to being greatly affrighted by his sudden appearance.'
    Brows raised, Tehol regarded his servant. 'Really? Poor Bugg, you need to do something about those nerves of yours. Come on, then, and fear nothing whilst you are with me.'
    They entered the Temple.
    And Tehol halted once more, as suddenly as the first time, as the point of a knife settled on his cheek beneath his right eye, which blinked rapidly. Bugg managed to draw up in time to avoid bumping into his master, for which Tehol's gratitude was sufficient to weaken his knees.
    A sweet feminine voice murmured close to his ear, 'You're not in disguise, sir. Which means, well, we both know what that means, don't we?'
    'I've come for my daughter—'
    'Now that's in very poor taste. We can't abide such twisted, sick desires in here—'
    'You misunderstand – understandably, of course, that is. I meant to say, I've come to retrieve her, before it's too late.'
    'Her name?'
    'Shurq Elalle.'
    'Well, it's too late.'
    'You mean she being dead? I'm aware of that. It's her ancestors, you see, they want her to come home to the crypt. They miss her terribly, and a few of them are getting alarmingly angry. Ghosts can be a lot of trouble – not just for you and this establishment, but for me as well. You see my predicament?'
    The knife point withdrew, and a short, lithe woman stepped round to stand before him. Close-fitting silks in rusty hues, a broad silk belt wrapped about her tiny waist, upturned slippers on her minuscule feet. A sweet, heart-shaped face, strangely overlarge eyes, now narrowing. 'Are you done?'
    Tehol smiled sheepishly. 'You